


Inner Sanctum

by akamww3



Series: Encounters [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Brief Swearing by Mycroft and Molly, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Mollcroft, Post-TAB Setting, Sexual Content (Mature)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-01
Updated: 2016-02-01
Packaged: 2018-05-17 14:07:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5873359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akamww3/pseuds/akamww3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Leaving the door open ... or just a bit ajar ... to their private places ...</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inner Sanctum

**Author's Note:**

>   
> 

Molly Hooper was hustled along the hospital corridor among the group of men, all of whom loomed over her … other than John Watson perhaps, but he walked with a certain military bearing that seemed to add inches to his rather modest height. Greg Lestrade was first to burst through Barts’ outer door and onto the pavement and quickly headed off into the night with a wave of his hand. Those left behind paused, looking after him for a few moments, then turned back just as a sleek black car pulled up beside them.

“Sherlock? John? Miss Hooper? May I offer you a lift?” Mycroft Holmes asked with a raised brow. Molly was careful to suppress any reaction while watching his brother who, as she’d been expecting, immediately scowled.

“We’ve suffered your presence long enough, brother mine,” Sherlock said irritably, then headed toward the curb and raised a hand to hail a passing taxi. “Come on, John!” His gaze shifted toward her as the black cab drew to a stop with a squeal of brakes. “Sorry, Molly,” he said dismissively, “but we’re not going your way.” John gave Molly an apologetic glance before following Sherlock into the back of the cab, and then they were gone.

Molly released a long breath and raised her eyes to Mycroft’s as the relative silence settled around them. He took a step back and lifted the umbrella in a sweeping gesture toward the car. “Shall we?”

The traffic was still heavy at half past eight on that Wednesday evening. Molly turned to look out the window at the headlights of oncoming cars and suddenly thought of the supper preparations she’d abandoned when Sherlock summoned her back to the morgue. She huffed a laugh and saw Mycroft glance at her out of the corner of her eye. When she looked at him, the passing streetlights cast flickering shadows across his face. “I just realized I left a packet of salmon on the worktop when Sherlock called.” Her lips quirked. “Toby’s probably enjoyed an unexpected feast in my absence.”

A crease appeared between his brows. “You haven’t eaten then?”

“No, but it’s all right,” she said quickly. “I’ll have something else when I get home.”

Mycroft turned to look out the window without saying anything, then slid a hand into his jacket pocket at the low buzz of his mobile. “Yes?”

Molly stared out her own window and tried to ignore his low-voiced conversation – what little there was of it. His side was terse, almost to the point of being monosyllabic. After a few moments, Molly’s eyes were irresistibly drawn back to Mycroft and she had to swallow several times against a sudden increase in saliva. _He’s quite literally mouth-watering,_ she thought -- that aura of understated power surrounding him as he sat there so calmly, phone at his ear, a fingertip tapping his knee, his long legs elegantly crossed. Molly found it almost unimaginable that this coolly detached and seemingly passionless man had lost himself in her body and come apart in her arms. She unconsciously shifted on the seat as she considered her intimate knowledge of every inch of his skin beneath the conservative suit. She glanced away as she felt warmth rise in her cheeks and then flushed harder when her eyes briefly and unintentionally met the driver’s in the rearview mirror. _Simon,_ she reminded herself, since they’d finally been “properly introduced.”

Molly turned back to Mycroft when he pocketed his phone and sighed. “I’m sorry, Molly, but I need to stop by the office. Would you mind waiting in the car? I’ll only be a few minutes, then we could get something to eat afterward.”

“What?” His eyebrows flicked up at her surprise, but Molly was so sure he’d been going to say he needed to drop her at home first. She mentally played back the entirety of what he’d said and had to look out the window to hide her reaction. Did he mean they were going to eat together _in_ _public?_ “That would be fine,” she said, turning back to him with a smile.

Mycroft lifted his chin in acknowledgment, then leaned forward to give Simon new instructions before settling back on the seat, and they shared a companionable silence until the car drew to a stop. Rather than getting out immediately, Mycroft turned to Molly and seemed to be studying her. “What is it, Mycroft?”

“Would you like to come in with me?”

Molly pressed her lips together before her mouth could fall open in shock and then quickly glanced toward Simon and back at Mycroft. “I would,” she finally said, “thank you.”

Mycroft told the driver he’d send a text when they were ready to leave, then helped Molly out of the car and ushered her toward the building with a hand against her back.

~~~~~

Mycroft showed Molly into his office, then waved a hand toward the chairs in front of his desk. “Have a seat, my dear. I’ll be back shortly.” When he returned about ten minutes later, he found Molly leaning over his desk, weight resting on her forearms as she studied the crystal globe. The unintentional allure of her position caught his attention, but then Molly glanced over her shoulder at him and straightened with a guileless smile. Mycroft felt a twinge of discomfort at the lewd image that had briefly come to mind and quickly rounded his desk before dropping into his chair and opening his laptop. He waved Molly to a chair without looking at her.

Molly took a seat and then stared at his hands in silence, feeling mesmerized by the quick movement of those long, dexterous fingers over the keyboard. After several minutes, she got up and wandered behind Mycroft to study the painting of the Queen more carefully. She eventually drew a breath to ask a question, but then glanced at the back of his head, hesitant to disturb him.

Mycroft had seemed fully focused on the screen, but suddenly swiveled his chair to look at her. “Did you want to ask me something?”

“Why the painting of a young Elizabeth instead of a more recent one?”

Mycroft got up and went to stand closely behind Molly, resting his hands on her shoulders as he studied the painting over the top of her head. “It doesn’t hurt for certain people who come here to be reminded that making a vow to devote oneself to service to the country can indeed last a lifetime.”

They continued to study the painting in silence for a while, then Molly twisted to look up at Mycroft, and he bent to kiss her while carefully turning and maneuvering them until her backside was resting against the desk. He gave her a lift onto its edge as he pushed his chair out of the way, and Molly clutched his shoulders more tightly, pressing her breasts against him and parting her lips when the tip of his tongue ran along their seam.

Molly suddenly felt obsessed with Mycroft’s lips, his mouth, his tongue – as if all the arousal she’d ever felt or would be allowed to feel was focused on that relatively small area of his body, and she was snogging him as if her life, their lives, depended on it … and Mycroft was returning her kisses with just as much passion until they abruptly pulled away, breathing heavily, needing air. Before Molly had stopped gasping, Mycroft’s lips were moving lightly across her cheek, sending a shiver through her when his breath stirred the hair at her temple. He began kissing a path down her throat, and Molly tilted her head to give him better access. _“Mmmmm,”_ she moaned as he deliberately sucked a love bite on her neck before raising his head.

Mycroft waited until Molly’s eyes opened and met his. Their breathing quickened as they stared at each other, then their mouths came together again in sudden urgency. Mycroft slid one hand through her hair to her nape and curved the other around her waist, pulling her closer. Their lips briefly separated and they each drew a deep breath before coming back together and delving deep, tongues sliding and coiling against each other, tips flicking teasingly, until he brushed the roof of her mouth and sent a jolt racing through her that ended with a tingle right between her legs. Molly pulled back with a gasp, then surged forward again to press her open mouth to his throat, feeling his pulse throbbing against her lips. She raised her head a fraction, then licked the skin where his pulse beat most strongly.

Mycroft straightened abruptly and his eyes again met hers. When Molly licked her lips, Mycroft pressed the flat of one hand in the center of her back and used his other hand to spread her knees further apart. As he stepped between them, he slid his hand from her knee to her thigh, continued up her torso, pausing for a moment to rub his thumb over her nipple, then slid higher to tilt her chin up. He began to kiss her while slowly urging her to lie on the desk and slipped his hand from under her back, down over her bottom and to the back of her thigh. When Molly opened her mouth, Mycroft immediately deepened the kiss, and they both moaned when she wrapped her legs around his hips and pressed her pelvis against his. Mycroft shifted to align the hard edge of his erection with the center seam of her jeans, then ground against her until they both moaned in frustration. Mycroft shifted his weight to one side and brought his hand between their bodies to undo the snap at her waist and slowly lower the zipper before wedging his hand between her clothes and skin and working his fingers lower until their tips touched moisture …

Molly pulled away back with a gasp and raised her hand to press her fingers over his mouth. “Wait a minute,” she said panting, then rolled her head to draw some air into her lungs. After a few moments, her eyes turned back to his and she shifted her hand to brush her thumb over his cheekbone, trying to calm him … calm _them._ “I don’t want you to do something in the heat of the moment that you’ll regret later,” she said a bit raggedly, then swallowed audibly as she tried to catch her breath. “Are you sure you want to have sex on your desk? Where you do such serious and important work?” She paused thoughtfully, then her lips quirked. “And in front of the Queen?”

The corners of Mycroft’s lips briefly turned up as he continued to hover over her, his breathing quick and shallow. A few seconds went by before he flattened both palms against the desk and pushed himself to a stand. Mycroft gave her another brief smile as he dropped into his chair, draped his hands over the chair arms and studied her while his chest rose and fell with his slow, deep breaths. “We’ve obviously reached a crucial stage in this arrangement of ours if you’re becoming less impetuous than I.”

Molly cocked her head to return the smile, then sat up, slid off the desk and stood looking down at him. “If you ever do decide you want to finish this,” she sighed, “just ask me to come for tea at the office and I’ll happily accept the invitation.”

Mycroft’s expression changed as he stared up at her broodingly before lowering his gaze to the surface of his desk. She watched as he seemed to be considering the notion seriously, then his gaze wandered around the room before coming to rest on her face and dropping down her body. She felt the warmth stir in her core and unconsciously rubbed her thighs together, then felt her face flush when Mycroft’s eyes rose to meet her own. She stepped aside as he got up, but then pressed close and wrapped her arms around his waist when he pulled her to him. She felt the quick throb of his heart against her cheek and decided she wouldn’t stop him if he started something again.

Mycroft finally sighed and kissed the top of her head. “Let’s go find something to eat.”

~~~~~

Molly glanced at Mycroft, eyes wide with surprise, when the car pulled into an unmarked alley and came to a halt behind a floodlit service entrance to an unmarked building. Mycroft leaned across her to push the door open, then followed her out of the car before stopping to speak to Simon.

When they went through the plain metal door, Molly was pleasantly surprised by the delicious mix of aromas. They were in a well-lit corridor that took a jog to the right, skirting the back of an industrial-sized kitchen filled with noisy people scurrying around cooking, serving plates, picking up orders. She stopped when a large man stepped into the corridor in front of them, blocking their way, and Mycroft eased up behind her and put a hand on her back.

“Mycroft –” the man said, booming a jovial welcome in a rich, deep voice.

“Antonio,” Mycroft greeted him, leaning past Molly to offer his hand. “Thank you for making room for us at such short notice.”

“You and your friends are always welcome,” Antonio responded gallantly, his dark eyes eyeing Molly with overt speculation, and then held out his hand. “Good evening, Miss …?”

Molly glanced quickly at Mycroft before offering her hand. “Hooper,” she said, then gasped when the man pressed plump lips to the back of it with a flourish.

“That’s enough of that, Antonio,” Mycroft said lightly. “You’ll turn Miss Hooper’s head.”

Antonio let go of Molly’s hand but with enough of a leer to cause her to blush becomingly. “Ah,” he said, “such a lovely English rose.” His gaze shifted to Mycroft’s and he straightened abruptly. “I have a place set up for you just along here,” he said, turning to lead them further along the corridor. He stopped before an unmarked door, then swung it open with another flourish. “I hope this is suitable, Mycroft?”

Mycroft’s steely-blue gaze briefly swept the room before he turned back to the restaurant owner with a lift of his chin. “Thank you, Antonio.” He lowered his gaze to Molly’s and lifted a brow. “Is there anything you don’t like food-wise, Molly?”

Her eyes slid to Antonio’s. “This is an Italian restaurant?”

Antonio’s chest puffed out a bit. _“The_ Italian restaurant, Miss Hooper, if you believe Guardian reviews.” He saw Mycroft shift impatiently out of the corner of his eye and quickly continued. “Italian cuisine is indeed our specialty, but my chefs are also highly accomplished with other –”

“I’d be happy with Italian,” she broke in, feeling Mycroft’s tension increase at the delay.

“Just bring us a selection of your favorite Italian dishes, Antonio, and a good bottle of whatever you recommend to accompany them.”

“Of course, of course, Mycroft,” he gushed, then gave Molly a bow before hurrying down the corridor toward the kitchen.

Mycroft urged Molly into the room, then stood back as she looked around at what was obviously an office before focusing on the round table and two dining chairs set in the far corner. The large room was lit by two lamps, one on the desk and one on the table, so the business purpose was softened by shadows. As they stopped beside the table and studied the crisp white linen, elegant table setting, and pale pink peonies in a cut-glass bowl, Molly wondered if the private dining setup was solely for Mycroft’s use and, if so, whether it was a normal stand-by arrangement or a one-off accomplished within the past half hour. Molly touched the edge of a flower petal with a tentative finger, then looked up at Mycroft. “This is lovely … and unexpected.”

He smiled briefly then tilted his head toward the door. “Do you need to visit …?”

“Actually, I would like to wash my hands,” she said, suppressing a blush … then mentally rolled her eyes at the thought of being embarrassed to admit the need for a toilet, all things considered. “Is there a ladies’ room nearby?”

“A unisex facility for the staff is just down the corridor. Will that do?”

Molly did roll her eyes at that. “Just point me to it, Mycroft.”

By the time they returned to the office, Antonio was there with a server, arranging still-steaming dishes and filling their wine glasses. Molly’s eyes widened as Mycroft pulled out her chair and helped her settle at the table. She finally lifted her eyes to Antonio’s with no thought of trying to act sophisticated. “Wow, Antonio … this looks _amazing!”_

Although Antonio suffered no lack of arrogance, vanity and self-importance, his chest swelled with pride at Molly’s genuine enthusiasm and artlessness. “Ah, Miss Hooper ... I just hope my humble efforts prove worthy of such a lovely lady.”

Mycroft suppressed a snort and waved a dismissive hand. “Thank you, Antonio. I’m sure your ‘humble efforts’ will prove to be delicious … for both of us.” Antonio’s color deepened when his eyes met Mycroft’s and he quickly excused himself, promising to return later with a selection of desserts.

Molly eyed Mycroft over the rim of her wineglass before taking a sip. “Private dining, meal served by the owner himself, at a restaurant where it normally takes weeks to get a reservation … this is certainly not what I expected for an impromptu meal.”

Half an hour later, Molly was surprised to realize they’d found mutual interests to chat about – surprised that Mycroft had bothered to “chat” at all - but after looking from her plate to his, she wondered if he’d used conversation as a means to distract her. “You’re not eating, Mycroft,” she said thoughtfully as she swallowed another bite of smoked-cheese ravioli. He seemed to have moved the food around on his plate without eating much of it.

Mycroft took another sip of wine, then lifted a brow. “I’ve had sufficient, my dear.”

“You’ve hardly eaten anything.” Molly watched Mycroft as she ate some risotto. “Are you on a diet, Mycroft?” She drew a deep breath when his lids dropped over his eyes. “Why the _hell_ are you on a diet? You don’t need to lose weight!”

“Nor do I need to gain it,” he said lightly.

Molly was outraged. “I can’t believe it. You brought me here and let them serve all this delicious food – every dish absolutely bursting with carbs and calories – and you won’t let yourself indulge? Why would you _do_ that? I’d have been happy with a bloody _sandwich!”_ Molly’s voice had risen and she huffed in annoyance when Mycroft didn’t reply. Another thought occurred to her. “What about the desserts? Don’t you like _pudding?”_

Mycroft sighed before he could suppress it. “Far too much,” he said with a wry smile.

Molly deliberately placed her knife and fork on her plate, then sat back. “Are you going to eat some dessert tonight?”

“I’ll have a cup of coffee.”

Molly sighed, then changed tactics. “Are you planning to have sex with me tonight?” She had to suppress her amusement when Mycroft stared at her, blinking slowly, before his gaze dropped ... but he quickly regained his composure and met her eyes again.

“That’s entirely up to you, my dear,” he said lightly, but with a heated look that made her blush.

“Then you ought to enjoy splitting a dessert with me since we’re going to be burning a lot of calories later,” she said confidently, while trying to ignore her deepening blush. She was relieved when they were interrupted by a quick rap on the door before it opened and the server from earlier came in, pushing a serving cart with their desserts and coffee service. She quickly got up and went around the table to stand by Mycroft to consider the selections. “What do you think? The Tiramisu?” When he unconsciously licked his lips, Molly turned to the server. “We’ll take coffee and keep one tiramisu, but please take the rest away,” she instructed, then added with a smile, “thank you.” Once the server had cleared the table, he reset it with the coffee service, tiramisu and two dessert plates, forks and spoons.

When the door clicked shut, Molly filled their coffee cups, then moved her chair next to Mycroft’s before shifting to face him. “One plate or two?” She wasn’t intentionally being seductive, she thought, but the question may have been asked in a huskier voice than it warranted.

“One’s fine,” he said, holding her eyes.

Molly glanced away to pick up the dessert spoons, then raised her eyes to his again. “One or two?”

“Molly –”

“One then,” she said, then turned to spoon up a bite-size portion so she missed the way Mycroft’s knuckles whitened where he gripped the handle of his coffee cup. His hand relaxed when she turned back to him with a hopeful expression and lifted the spoon. “Mycroft?” He studied her expression for a moment, then bent forward and closed his lips around the utensil, holding her eyes as he slowly sucked the creamy mouthful off the spoon. Molly’s breath caught, then her head swam and a pulse throbbed between her legs as a wave of lust spread through her body. She broke their eye contact, carefully refilled the spoon, turned back to him with a slow smile, then lifted the spoon toward her mouth -

Mycroft’s hand wrapped around Molly’s wrist before the spoon touched her lips. “Unless you want me to fuck you right here, right now, I suggest we leave.” Molly dropped the spoon with a clatter at his gruff warning, and there was a brief moment when they both stilled, staring at each other … then Mycroft leaned forward and kissed her, slipping one hand through her hair and around the nape of her neck as he bent her over his other arm. Molly fingers grabbed the sides of his jacket as his tongue filled her mouth with the creamy tang of the mascarpone, the dark flavor of his coffee, and the irresistible taste that was Mycroft himself. He straightened with Molly held against his chest just as quickly as he’d bent over her.

“Wait for me here,” Mycroft said in a deep, gravelly voice as he released her and got to his feet. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.” He headed toward the door, then hesitated, changed course to pick up his overcoat and folded it over his arm as he left the room. When the door shut, Molly sagged in the chair, feeling hot, rumpled and extremely aroused.

~~~~~

The drive to Molly’s flat was silent, still … and it was as if an electric current flowed between the two of them. Molly didn’t know if Simon felt the strain, but Antonio had noticed Mycroft’s tenseness and given her a sympathetic glance, misunderstanding its cause.

~~~~~

Mycroft followed Molly into the flat and had time only to hang his umbrella on a hook before Molly shoved him back against the door and slid her arms around his neck as far as she could reach on her tiptoes. “Mycroft,” she moaned huskily as she pulled his mouth to hers.

Mycroft didn’t hesitate to clutch the sides of Molly’s waist and lift her against him before clamping his arms around her back. Her kiss was frantic, as if she expected them to be parted by some outside force at any moment, and he gently cupped the side of her face as he eased his lips away. “Slow down, Molly,” he softly urged. “Let’s get our coats off.” When her eyes met his and her expression turned sheepish, he let her slide down his body and started to undo the buttons on her coat.

“I’ll do it,” she said and hung the coat on a hook, followed by her scarf. She watched as Mycroft did the same with his, then he turned back to her, and they were again in each other’s arms. After a few minutes, Molly tore her lips away, panting. “Oh _god,_ Mycroft,” she moaned as he began kissing the side of her neck, “if you don’t fuck me within the next few minutes, I think I’m going to spontaneously combust - eeee!” She broke off with a squeal when Mycroft suddenly bent to slip one arm around her back and scoop her knees up with the other and began striding toward her bedroom.

Mycroft carried her through the door and kicked it shut behind him, causing Toby to leap backwards with a protesting meow. Mycroft lightly tossed Molly onto the bed and quickly and efficiently removed his clothes as he watched her roll around, pulling the jumper over her head, toeing her shoes off, and shoving her jeans and pants past her hips before kicking them off her legs. A one-handed flick of her bra clasp and she was bare but for her socks, which he relieved her of as he crawled onto the bed … and directly into the warm embrace of her arms and legs. Mycroft quickly confirmed her readiness with a delicate touch of fingers that made Molly gasp and clutch his shoulders more tightly, then without further delay he penetrated her with one upward thrust and a loud groan of relief that Molly echoed. She squirmed and writhed, trying to buck against him, tightening her internal muscles to encourage him to start moving. Instead, he slowly pulled out again, then gathered himself for another hard thrust, to the hilt, paused to grind their centers together, then slowly pulled out. “Mycroft …,” she moaned, “you’re killing me.” He nudged her chin with his until she tilted her head further back on the pillow, then took her upper lip between his and lightly sucked on it as he flexed his hips and buried himself in her again, deliberately rubbing his pelvic bone against her. “Mycroft …,” she said as her fingers scrabbled at his back, then moaned when he reclaimed her mouth in a deep, exploring kiss.

Molly dragged her fingernails down his spine and gripped his bottom, nails digging into the straining muscles, and Mycroft’s control broke. He straightened his arms, bracing his hands beside her shoulders, and his thrusts became even harder and deeper and unrelenting until Molly came with a gasping sob and her body clenched around his and Mycroft thrust faster and faster until he erupted deep within her and trembled again and then again from the aftershocks … before he finally dropped onto his forearms and lowered his head to the pillow beside hers ... and eventually kissed the crook of her neck once the harshness of his breathing eased.

Mycroft’s muscles tensed as he slipped out of Molly and collapsed onto the bed beside her. When his breathing had slowed further, he rolled his head to look at her, then got up and went to the ensuite. He came back after a few minutes with a warm, wet flannel and proceeded to clean Molly carefully, despite her blushing protests. He returned to the bathroom and came back with another warm flannel and a hand towel, which he used to go over her again, then carefully dry her most tender parts. “I’m sorry, Molly,” he said as he lay beside her on returning from the bathroom. “I haven’t ever – I’ve been tested recently, if you’re concerned.”

Molly rolled onto her side and folded an arm under her head. “I’m not concerned about that,” she said. “I’m clean, too – and I’m on the pill.”

Mycroft sighed, then shifted to face her, mimicking her position, and reached out to tuck some hair behind her ear. “This evening has been a surprise. If Sherlock hadn’t called –”

“We wouldn’t have seen each other tonight,” she finished. “I suppose I should thank him for interrupting my supper plans so rudely.” She gave Mycroft a slow smile. “How can Sherlock still have no idea about this?”

“He hasn’t been paying any attention.”

Molly hesitated, not sure if she wanted to pursue the subject, but finally continued in what she hoped was an offhand and nonchalant manner. “And if he did?” She bit her lip when Mycroft suddenly rolled away to sit on the edge of the bed, then flushed when she saw the impressions her fingernails had left on his back.

Mycroft’s face was unreadable when he finally looked at her over his shoulder. “He might decide he wants his neglected toy after all.”

Molly frowned, considering his meaning. _“Me?_ You think Sherlock might start to want me if he knew _you_ wanted me?”

“It’s not unprecedented,” he said as he bent over to pick up his pants and trousers.

“And you think I …,” Molly stopped, not wanting to believe he thought she could switch her affections – for want of a better word – so easily.

“You’ve wanted Sherlock for a long time,” he said in an indifferent tone, then rose to his feet and briefly turned to her before stooping to gather the rest of his clothes. He paused, surprised when Molly abruptly sat up and stalked around the bed toward him. When she reached for his clothes, he gave them to her without thinking.

“First off,” she said as she shook his trousers out and carefully placed them on the valet stand he’d given her, “I don’t think he’d want me under any circumstances.” She shook out his shirt, then paused before pursing her lips. “Not that I don’t appreciate the concept of being the hay in a dog in the manger scenario,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “Second,” she continued as she arranged his shirt on the hanger and tried to smooth a wrinkle from the front of it, “I wouldn’t want him now if he did.” She turned to face Mycroft squarely and placed her fists on her hips, arms akimbo. “You said ‘wanted’ and that’s correct. I _did_ want Sherlock, but my foolish infatuation with him stopped the moment you took my hand in the kitchen that day.” She dropped her arms and moved closer. “Do you have to go? Can you stay the night?”

Mycroft’s eyes continued to hold hers until he finally sighed and pulled her to him. “No, I can’t stay the night,” he said, resting his chin on the top of her head, “but I don’t have to leave right now.”

**Author's Note:**

> Since I obviously can't follow through with taking a break from writing, if I ever do, it will probably be without warning. Ha.
> 
> Edited to change the name of Mycroft's driver. I simply can't believe I was such an idiot as to name him _Mark_ without thinking!! (He's obviously on my mind far too often.)
> 
> _Edited 7 April 2016 to add:_ It's come to my attention that the "structure" of this series could be confusing. If I'd known Mycroft's and Molly's initial encounter was eventually going to develop into a relationship, I would have started this as a multi-chaptered story instead of a series. Please note that the storyline of this Encounters series is chronological, so reading earlier parts will show how they got to where they are now. :)
> 
> For anyone who might be interested, I'm on Tumblr and devote 99.99% of my time and effort there to Mycroft/Mark love. [WaitingForTheThaw](http://waitingforthethaw.tumblr.com/)


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